"When you hear beeps, you go like hell."

That's the extent of the instructions Colm O'Connell gives to Rebby Koech as she starts a midmorning fartlek workout in Iten. A 1:13 half marathoner, Koech is the only professional woman whose training O'Connell, the legendary coach at St. Patrick's High School, oversees. Still, Koech has company this morning in the form of Viola Kibiwott, a two-time world junior cross country champion; Agnes Barsosio, whose half marathon PR is faster than Koech's; and a man simply known as Cleophas, one of the seemingly infinite number of Iten residents who train extraordinarily hard despite having no real chance of making it as a professional runner.

You see a lot of odd things in Iten: women sitting next to you in a matatu (passenger van) with live chickens in their laps; said matatus stuffed with nearly twice the 14 passengers they're legally allowed; 12-year-old Kalenjin boys wearing shirts that read, "This is what 40 looks like." But one of the oddest scenes has to be four runners speeding up a hill 10 feet ahead of a Toyota driven by an Irish priest. O'Connell follows Koech, as well as the two professional men he coaches, Isaac Songok and Augustine Choge, at least once a week. Doing so allows him to closely control the fartlek sessions that are a staple of his program. When the car horn beeps, the runners go hard. Another beep means it's time to jog, at least until the horn sounds again. "They don't know how long each segment will be," O'Connell says. "Nor do I, really. In a race, you don't know when your competition is going to go fast or slow, so we must prepare for that." If O'Connell thinks the runners are dogging it on a hard segment, he nudges the car closer until they get the message and pick up the pace.

On just the second pick-up, Barsosio is in trouble. "Here's an example of spillover that's not always in the athletes' best interest," O'Connell says as Barsosio lags. "They'll latch on to someone like Rebby who has a more systematized plan, often when they're not ready for it." Over the next several 90- to 150-second bouts of pushing and jogging, Barsosio will fall off sooner and sooner on the hard segments, and work hard to catch up during what is supposed to be a recovery period. Finally, 22 minutes into the workout, she gives up. O'Connell pulls alongside and tells her to take the shorter route to the road the others will later cover.

Meanwhile, Koech, clearly setting the pace, is sticking it to her companions. "I would like to see Viola in a bit better form," O'Connell says. Kibiwott, after all, will leave later today for a cross country race in Spain four days hence. For now, she's simply struggling to maintain contact. Nearing the 40-minute mark, Koech continues softening Kibiwott and Cleophas, all the while dodging cattle, kids and other impediments. "It's all part of the training," O'Connell says as an overladen truck comes barreling toward the runners.

Almost 45 minutes into the workout, the remaining trio pass Barsosio, who is now limping. Koech, slightly ahead and flying down a long downhill stretch, doesn't even steal a momentary glance at her ailing friend. "I like that about Rebby, her aggression," O'Connell says. "It's a useful trait in a female athlete." Moments later, O'Connell honks. The runners are now back in the center of Iten, and know that this is their last recovery jog. All that remains is a push to the St. Patrick's gate. O'Connell gives one last press on the horn. Koech and Cleophas are flat out sprinting up the last uphill stretch, and drop Kibiwott immediately. Finally, after nearly 50 minutes, the workout is over.

Her eyes still glassed over with fatigue, Koech walks to the front lawn of St. Patrick's and goes right into a series of form and flexibility exercises. By the time Barsosio appears a few minutes later to make it a quartet doing butt-kick drills, I realize they won't be doing a conventional cooldown. "Why the drills instead of jogging?" I ask O'Connell. "Why not?" he responds. "If they enjoy it and feel it serves the same purpose..." At this point, I look over to see Koech and the others doing a little swirling-hip dance, kind of the Kenyan answer to the watusi. I direct O'Connell's attention to the runners and ask, "So this one...?" O'Connell laughs and says, "Well, yes, I don't know how beneficial that is, but I don't want to stifle their enjoyment."

A few days later, Kibiwott calls with the news that, despite her so-so workout on Wednesday, she has defeated an international field in Spain. Smiling in the present while hungrily anticipating the future, O'Connell says, "Rebby must be in fantastic form."

Return to Article Index